


Kinktober #3: Tentacles

by blessedharlot



Series: Kinktober 2019 [3]
Category: The Great Library Series - Rachel Caine
Genre: F/M, Pseudo-Incest, Sin Universe, Tentacle Sex, Tentacles, Tentacles of Quintessence, and the incest is part of the point on this one, energy tentacles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-03
Updated: 2019-10-03
Packaged: 2020-10-14 08:33:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20597813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blessedharlot/pseuds/blessedharlot
Summary: Written before Sword and Pen, this is an AU follow-up to Morgan fixing her powers after they were scorched in the Coliseum.





	Kinktober #3: Tentacles

Bruised, battered, and breathless, Morgan still had a deep need that led her to knock on his door late that night.

A shiver ran through her when he opened the door. He was still awake and alert, looking her up and down with his heavy intimidating air. 

"The day is over, Morgan," Eskander told her. "Rest."

"I didn't want to address this at the Coliseum."

_ Not in front of other people _ , she thought.

“Here to be fixed again, then?” he asked.

Morgan felt heat on her cheeks instantly, her gut rigid with anger.

_ You weren’t there. None of you. Yes, I fought as a single Obscurist. I was the only one there. _

She just barely kept herself from screaming it all at him... before she noticed that his eyes now looked at her softly. Invitingly. Maybe a bit sadly.

_ What had his tone been when he asked me the question? Did I even notice? _

Did he understand more than she gave him credit for, about her hunger?

“Please,” Morgan finally replied. "Yes. Please help me."

Morgan had had no idea how Eskander’s slow method of healing would work. But she knew it was less dangerous. And they both suspected they had time for it. 

So, she lay on her back on the floor of his room, as instructed. He sat crosslegged at the crown of her head, gray hair loose at his cheeks as he leaned over her. It was an oddly intimate position for looking at a near stranger.

His hand hovered over her breasts.  _ Over my heart, _ she corrected herself.  _ It's a pivotpoint of quintessence _ .

“Feel yourself relax deeply, Morgan,” he said in a voice so soothing, she wouldn’t have thought him capable of it. “That’s right, I can feel your strictures loosening. You’re safe here, behind a door you locked yourself.”

Morgan closed her eyes and listened. His voice was so lush, so… indulgent.  _ How can he be so skilled at something he hasn’t done in decades? _

“Take deep breaths,” he said. “Feel yourself softly expand... and contract. Feel yourself at rest, with freedom to move and be. And you feel a craving for wholeness again. That’s it."

Eskander then lay his hands softly against her clavicles… a thumb grazing a sensitive spot on her neck, the tips of his long fingers not quite reaching the flesh of her breasts. 

And then a golden liquid current, soft as velvet, began pouring out onto her. 

This wasn’t the bone-shattering experience that her fast fix had been. This was a long, undulating wave of gentle yearning, an alluring tug toward the light… a splendidly felt chance to luxuriate in a sense of being right, and whole.

The energy pooled around her, as the field grew in waves and streaks and long fingers of healing. When she stretched out her hands at her sides, she felt the quintessence curl and thicken and encourage her to take it in her grip. When she parted her lips, it licked at her tongue thick and real as honey.

It wanted to be invited into her body. She felt its desire. She felt her own hunger for wholeness reaching wide for it.

“Eskander,” Morgan whispered. She opened her eyes and looked at him.

He sat calmly, his beautiful silver hair swept up wildly in the flow. Eskander had become a pillar of quintessence, an open channel of something larger than either of them… vivid and powerful.

His eyes opened.

"Trust your instinct," Eskander told her. "It's the life force, it craves you as much as you crave it."

She closed her eyes, and prayed.

“Please,” she begged.

She felt his hand on her forehead, an anchor, as the feel of sweeping velvet currents against her flesh intensified. 

When she opened her mouth again, the energy was thick and turgid, and slipped itself down her throat in a gratifying rush.

She found fat ropes of it she could hold in each hand and stroke in burgeoning ecstasy. 

Arms of it curled tight against her breasts, somehow reaching through fabric as if it wasn't there and clinging its slick sticky self to her skin.

It curved around her waist like a lover's arms, tilting her toward euphoria.

More of it pressed between her legs, hot and hungry and looking for entry.

She let it in, and waves of it coursed through her, pulsing with her heartbeat, entering her everywhere.

She lost track of how many heartbeats, how many breaths she drew. Morgan only knew she felt rightly filled, properly full, lavishly whole.

When the energy abated, Morgan suddenly lay shivering and gasping on the floor. 

She quickly sat up, startled by the absence of it all.

"That's enough for today," Eskander said, looking oddly calm.

The room was darker now. The sun had set.

"How long has it been?" she asked, a bit shaken.

"About three hours."

Morgan gasped. Her whole body vibrated strangely.

“You’ll feel less… strange,” he said, “in another few hours or so.”

"How many," Morgan said, reached to straighten her clothes -- or put some on, or… surely she didn’t feel this way while she was still dressed and presentable. But when she looked down, she realized her outfit was in pristine condition. "How many sessions of this do you think we need?"

Eskander frowned in thought. "Every other day, for as long as it takes. Hard to know in advance. It took Keria and I about two months."

Morgan swallowed hard, and nodded.

"Morgan, go to your young man," he said. "You'll need rest tonight and then you'll be very… desirous of his attention tomorrow. Try not to hurt him."

Eskander smiled… briefly with a kindness, and then with dismissal.

_ Well then, _ Morgan thought.  _ There’s a process well begun, I suppose. _


End file.
